


snap! crackle! pop!

by afrocurl



Category: Glee
Genre: Apocalypse, Community: apocalyptothon, Gen, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:39:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lima is a great place to be when zombies attack? Or is it just better to run the hell away?</p>
            </blockquote>





	snap! crackle! pop!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missmara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmara/gifts).



> Vague series spoilers, but nothing too glaring.

Kurt taps his boot against the hardwood floor in front of the bathroom for the second time.

“Finn, will you hurry up? You know I can’t moisturize in my room!”

The door in front of him doesn’t open, but a loud thud sounds from inside the room.

Kurt raps again, more insistently. “Hurry _up_! Blaine will be here to get me in five minutes,” he calls, staring down the door. “The lighting in my room is _horrible_ this time of day, so I _need_ the bathroom!”

Instead of Finn appearing in front of him, there comes another thud accompanied by a loud groan.

“Fine, Finn! It’s _your_ fault if I get a pimple today from this.” Kurt turns on his heel and heads back to his room quickly, snatching up a jacket, messenger bag and scarf.

Downstairs, Kurt takes one last opportunity to check his appearance in the mirror just as there is a knock on the front door.

“Bye Dad! By Carole! Finn-” he pauses dramatically, sending a longer-than-he-has-time-for glare toward the top of the stairs, “-you’ll be late!”

-

“Mr Shue, we obviously can’t practice today; we’re missing our hapless leader,” Santana comments, coolly inspecting her manicure as the group finally comes to some semblance of order.

“I don’t think I’d call him ‘hapless‘, Santana,” Mr. Shuester chides brusquely, ready to move on from the negative remark about Finn.

“Oh, I _know_ he is. That night in bed was horrible.”

A few titters erupt around the room, but Kurt cuts through them wryly, crossing his legs and cocking one eyebrow. “Not something we all wanted to hear again.”

Santana folds her arms, narrowing her eyes at Kurt. “I’ve heard plenty of stories from before I joined Glee. Don’t think I won’t share them. I’m like Regina George that way--my hair is full of secrets.”

Kurt sends her a sidelong glare but stops talking.

His silence does not last, however. Before Mr. Shuester can even clear his throat to introduce the idea of singing, Kurt adds, “I can text to see why he’s not here. He hadn’t left the house when I did this morning.”

“We can go on for one day without him, Kurt, but thank you,” Mr. Shuester puts in quickly. “Now for our assignment this week- I’m thinking 80s.”

“Haven’t we already done that with every other week?” Puckerman asks skeptically, the patented Bored Bad Boy expression on his face, huffing in frustration at the theme.

“For once, I agree with Puckerman,” Santana adds. “Can we pick the topic for this week?”

“Umm, everyone, I don’t think that’s our biggest problem right now,” Kurt interrupts, worry covering his face in wrinkles. “Finn’s text back was just some garbled letters. Something’s _definitely_ not right.”

“So Finn can’t text one-handed. Give ‘em a break,” Artie rejoins, looking around the room.

“Well, this morning, I heard all these grunts from the bathroom when he was there. He’s not usually that Neanderthal in the bathroom.”

“Then what? You sure he wasn’t spanking the monkey before school?” Mercedes queries.

“Only one thing left on the possible list,” Santana cuts in.

“Either Finn needed more than enough time for his morning wood, or...” she trails off.

The room stills waiting for her answer to the mysterious absence of Finn Hudson.

“ZOMBIES! And we fight ‘em like bitches!” Santana yells.

“How do you even get from one text to zombies?” Rachel wonders, oblivious to the way in which Santana’s mind works.

“Well, like I was sayin’ earlier, I’ve been with that boy. He may not be smart, but he can string together something that looks like English.

“Kurt, let me see that text.”

The phone passes from his hand into hers and she looks at the small screen.

“It’s not good, Berry. Have a look.”

Rachel peers into the screen, shaking her head immediately. “Santana’s right. That’s not Finn.”

-

“Do we have a plan?” Mercedes asks on the way to Kurt’s house. The club had split up for the trip, and Mercedes was driving Kurt, Tina, and Santana.

“Do we need one?” Tina asks.

“HALE YES!” Santana calls from the back. “We _always_ need a plan. Mercedes, do you have a gun in here?”

Tina and Kurt look at Santana in shock.

“What? You haven’t seen any zombie movies?”

The car echoes with stunned silence.

Mercedes rolls her eyes and continues to drive to Kurt’s.

-

Puckerman stands in front of the door to Kurt and Finn’s house, wielding a chainsaw. He looks more than a little enthusiastic.

“Where the hell did you get that?” Kurt asks, nervous about the potential damage to his house beyond just the sight of blood against the furniture and blood along the walls and floors.

“One of the houses down the street. I clean their pool.” He gives his answer while making a few test swings at the pristine door with the blade. In light of his wide reach, the rest of the club takes a collective step back.

Kurt moves to the front door, slowly turning the key before letting Puckerman lead the group inside.

“Be on the lookout for anything slow and decaying, okay?” Puckerman suggests, moving cautiously through the foyer and into the living room, brandishing the chainsaw before him.

A thud startles the group, and they huddle closer. Together, they cautiously approach the kitchen, the source of the noise.

Puckerman looks around at the group, silently mouthing the words as he counts to three. He nudges the kitchen door with the toe of his boot, and all wait with bated breath  
as the door swings open. On the other side, it is plain for all to see both Kurt’s dad and Finn’s mom are moaning and looking a little grey around the face.

Santana charges past Puckerman into the room, yelling, “GET ‘EM!”

Puckerman starts the chainsaw in a fluid motion that would have done Ash proud and advances on the undead remains of Kurt’s family. He slices quickly, spraying the kitchen with gore.

“EWW!” Rachel screams, before running out the other door.

“Of course,” Santana snaps. “Berry would have to be scared of blood. Why did she come in the first place?”

“Excuse me, Puckerman did just kill my parents. I’m now covered in blood. Do you know how hard that is to get out of wool?” Kurt asks, looking at his ruined jacket. “And of course Rachel would run away. She’s a vegan and can’t stand to watch _Bambi_ ”, Kurt snaps, horror set on his face at the ruined garment.

“Well, better to be an orphan than dead, Kurt. You need to invest in more movies instead of musicals,” Santana states, before looking to see how much splatter found its way to her dress and boots.

“I’m the one with the weapon; can the peanut gallery please shut the fuck up?” Puckerman wonders aloud, turning around to face the rest of the club. “If Kurt’s text was right, we need to find Finn before he gets Berry.”

“Let him,” Tina mumbles before looking around the kitchen and eying the door.

“We’re already down a member now-” Mercedes points out, “-we can’t compete at Regionals.”

“Every man for himself,” Artie chimes in through the partially open door. “Peace out!”

Everyone in the room hears the sound of wheels across a hardwood floor and another door opening.

Mercedes stares at the shrinking group before replying. “When the hell did everyone else get so self-centered?”

“Since zombies turned Finn into the undead, I’d say,” Santana snidely rejoined.

-

As she vomits for the third time in twenty minutes, Rachel is unaware of the slowly growing hum in her earshot.

Her face still hovers over the toilet, and before she can react, the loud groan reaches her ears.

 _SNAP!_

-

The hum around the house grows louder as the group left the house.

“It’s getting worse,” Puckerman announces, stating the perfectly obvious.

“Meaning what?” Kurt wonders.

“We need more weapons. Where could we find anything else?”

“Not my usual department, but I’d guess the basement or the garage,” Kurt flatly replies, turning the corner from the living room and eyeing the stairs.

“Doesn’t Finn play baseball?” Santana wonders, holding onto Brittany’s hand as they follow Kurt through the house.

“I think I remember anything from the move. It’s in the garage, if anything,” Kurt mutters absently, looking down at the still ruined jacket.

“Don’t be such a fashionista, Hummel. There’s work to be done,” Santana calls out, trying to focus the remaining members of the club.

The group thins out with each passing moment. Tina and Mike, just after Artie. No one has seen Rachel in about the same time.

Mercedes walks out of the house when they discover the basement is a lost cause, saying she’s more interested in being able to leave Lima than die a martyr in some vain attempt at saving their group.

“We still haven’t found Finn, by the way,” Puckerman says, still holding the chainsaw in the rear of the smaller group.

“Right, Britt, go find a bat or something to club the zombies with and meet us back here,” Santana commands.

The blonde flops away from the other girl’s hand and out the back door with little fanfare.

-

“Anyone here?” Brittany asks, as she slowly opens the garage door. There is no other sound than the low hum all around. It echoes in her ears with each passing moment in the room, but she pays it no attention as she scans for the requested item.

Creeping into the musky space to investigate a larger oddly shaped red bag, she misses the buzz of two figures behind her.

“I found the bat,” she yells, before being cut off by a larger figure biting down against her neck.

-

Kurt, Puck and Santana wait nervously in the kitchen for Brittany to return. The silence grows around them, while the blood from early slides towards the floor. Their survey of the rest of the house yields nothing but wasted time and no sign of any zombie.

The buzz all around them grows louder and more insistent.

“We’ve officially lost her,” Puckerman declares, an uneasy statement shattering the quiet from before.

“Right,” Santana says, looking out forlornly.

“You’re not going to cry?” Kurt wonders blithely.

“No, because this shit is about to get fucked up. I don’t wear these boots for my damn sake,” she replies before following Brittany’s previous path.

“Women?” Kurt asks.

“No, I think that’s just Santana,” Puckerman answers, shrugging his shoulders as the walks away from them.

-

She finds the bat quickly. Finn’s baseball bat was easy enough to spot. There’s a patch of blonde hair she sees on the floor near where she found the bat.

A single tear falls from her face as she turns to leave the dank space.

Quickly, she also grabs the propane tank and hopes someone has a Zippo, setting her face in a determined look that normally scared the entire Lima High School population.

-

A small group of undead watches as another figure walks out of the detached building, bat in one hand and tank in the other.

They move in unison back towards where they had all been before.

Groans mix with heavy footsteps as they follow the figure.

-

“Someone have a lighter?” Santana manages as she drops the tank on the floor, looking nervous as the sound around them changes.

“I think there’s one over in the kitchen--like for the fireplace,” Kurt says, pointing towards a cabinet.

“Get it. We’re gonna torch the fuckers when they get back in here.”

Kurt huffs in exasperation.

“If I’m going to live through this, it might as well be without _this_ jacket now.”

“Good, now let’s wrap it around the tank and wait,” Santana quickly says. She shoots Puckerman a look, and he revs the chainsaw one last time.

The three of them stand, waiting, as the sound of loud groans moves closer.

“You think I have time to get a different jacket before they make it in?” Kurt inquires.

Four eyes give him a look that suggests he’s lost it. Kurt knows he lost it long before this.

“Fine, no new jacket. I’ll just die a victim or horrible fashion.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to J, and M for the beta and support.


End file.
